


Tumble Turn

by dedougal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:26:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedougal/pseuds/dedougal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thinks his summer job is going suck. He's not wrong about that but the hot lifeguard makes up for it a whole lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumble Turn

**Author's Note:**

> This started with the amazing comedicdrama and the prompts of doom once again. And then it became an excuse to write Derek in speedos, soaking wet. Because why not. Also, this is a little bit for toyboy_.

Summer jobs were supposed to suck. It wasn’t like he had a cushy number at the vet like Scott who could just extend hours when school was out. Oh no. Stiles was the one begging for pitiful hours around every business around Beacon Hills. Especially after his dad had banned him from the station. Stiles was not more interested in reading the files than putting them away in their proper place. Not, you know, most of the time.

It was relief, however, that was Stiles’ main emotion when he got the call from the local public pool. They needed him to clean the pool and by god he would do it. He ignored the implication that they were only calling him because their usual guy had gotten strep. He was a working stiff and he was going to have money. For himself. A contributing member of society.

It was this rite of passage thing. He was almost an adult. It was, sadly, also, pretty much the only adult thing on his horizon since the unceremonious implosion of the whole Erik mistake. Stiles spent some quality time reassuring himself that everything functioned to make up for that disappointment. He might even pick up one of the bathing beauties at the pool.

Well, if his uniform didn’t put them off.

Stiles wasn’t sure who was in charge of the whole clown costume he was assigned but he was not happy. He showed up in his board shorts and a perfectly fine t-shirt and was handed a pair of bright red shorts and a yellow, shapeless, enormous, lurid polo shirt. He looked like a cross between a banana and a douchebag. Skimming leaves out of the pool and checking the chlorine level was nothing compared to the shame of being seen in public looking even more ridiculous that he normally did. 

Stiles was accustomed to being ignored, or shoved into things and ignored. He was not used to the whole point and whisper thing that went on among his school compadres who were lucky enough not to be working. Girls and guys, skin oiled up with sun cream, leaving behind wrappers and cups for Stiles to pick up with his long handled grabber. Forget sunburn – his neck was burned from all the blushing.

It was his second day of brightly colored hell when everything took a turn. It was neither a good nor a bad turn – not yet. It was just one of those significant moments that sent tingles up the spine. And, you know, other places.

If Stiles’ uniform only confirmed his status as a dorky loser, the vision in front of him made it look… Well. Good wasn’t a strong enough word. Brilliant. Awesome. Fucking amazing. Stiles also fell into the pool because he was too busy watching the lifeguard’s ass to notice where he was going. 

By the time he’d flailed his way out of the pool, he had the full force of the lifeguard’s attention, all drawn thick eyebrows and scowl. Stiles gave a little half-hearted wave to show he was suffering from no lasting damage and squelched off to the changing rooms to beg another uniform from his supervisor. He told him to keep a few in the locker just in case. That was almost more humiliating.

 

No one messed with the life guard. In fact, no one really spoke to him. Stiles spent a lot of time trying to wheedle information about him from other people but he was apparently as much of a mystery to his fellow pool scrubbers as he was to Stiles. He did manage to learn a name – Derek Hale – which made it easier to gasp out something in his fantasies than ‘Hot Ass Life Guard’. The worst of it was that Derek was always on shift when Stiles was, flaunting his gorgeous legs, his strong thighs just glimpsed under his shorts. He normally wore sunglasses which made conflicted: gorgeous eyes versus cool and aloof? Both looks worked for Stiles.

Stiles found that his days passed quicker because every task he had to complete was made better by the promise of Derek stalking. Staring. He meant staring. He would mop up the splashes by the side of the pool and stare. He would pick up the crap everyone left behind them (the garbage can was RIGHT THERE. How hard was it to walk a whole two feet? Really. Kids these days) and stare at Derek. He would lean against the railing and pretend to be surveying his kingdom when, you guessed it, he would be staring at Derek.

There was a part of Stiles that wanted to see if Derek wanted to grab a beverage of some kind (coffee, tea, juice, milkshake...) but there was a larger part of him that kept him pining – looking – from afar. Stiles had experience in the whole soul-crushing rejection type of thing and he was – mostly – happy with just enjoying Derek as he was, with Stiles’ active imagination filling in the gaps.

 

Stiles was a model employee, pretty much. He didn’t slack off too much and he smiled at the customers, which was more than some of the others did. He soon learned to love the sunshine yellow monstrosity as he saw many of his classmates developed a fun level of sunburn over the course of the day. And, as a model employee, he was happy enough to come in early to cover when one of the other attendants called in sick.

It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

He hadn’t been at the pool before opening – he’d closed up a couple of times and taken advantage of the whole free reign after hours that was basically the only staff privilege they were afforded. Early mornings had yet to have the pleasure of his company.

Which, it turned out, was probably for the best. Stiles showed up toting the strongest coffee he could persuade the guy in Starbucks to make him only to find that he was not going to need it to wake up all the way. Or possibly he was still dreaming because Derek was swimming laps. At first Stiles was basically caught up in the whole naked back thing – the guy even had a tattoo – but as he made his way to the nearest lounger and sprawled into it, he realized Derek was basically naked except for a tiny Speedo. Or, well, it wasn’t that tiny. It covered everything. It just hugged it as well.

Derek’s ass was a work of art. Seriously. Stiles could write odes to it. He even started thinking up images while he sipped at his coffee, all thoughts of jumping in himself forgotten as Derek sliced through the water, barely seeming to come up for breath. 

They were alone here, too. Stiles’ dad had insisted on driving him to save gas and Stiles had been dropped outside the station very early. The walk to the pool had killed some time but there was no one else around except for him and Derek and many, many of Stiles’ favorite little moments started just in this exact way.

He could feel himself getting hard. And his coffee was pretty much done.

Stiles pushed himself out of the lounger and thought he’d gotten away with his private Derek ogling time. But he wasn’t that lucky. The movement must have caught Derek’s attention because when he reached the end nearest Stiles, he planted his hands on the tiles and pushed himself up, holding himself out of the water. His arms were the first thing Stiles noticed, heavily muscled and highlighted by the water splashing down from his hair. And then Stiles was all about the chest and the abs and the – fuck – bulge he could make out because Derek’s swim suit was verging on the obscene. Derek was tanned all over, as well, which suggested that if Stiles had worked every early shift he could see Derek looking like this every morning.

Derek let out a strangled cough. “Stiles. You’re here early.”

“Jens is out sick.” Stiles realized it was probably all kinds of rude to be so blatantly checking out Derek’s body – even though he stood by his earlier work of art assertion. So he managed to lift his eyes up to meet Derek’s. And then it sunk in that Derek knew his name. “I’m just gonna get started now.”

Derek didn’t bother answering him but smoothly slid back into the water, threw in a couple of back strokes before twisting in the water and resuming whatever the workout he was doing was. 

Stiles shoved on his uniform and started sweeping up some of the dead leaves that accumulated in the corner of the pool area no matter what the weather was. And he pushed loungers into neat rows and stocked up the napkins by the concession stand. And he was there, overlooking the pool, when Derek finally climbed out.

Not only was the swimsuit indecently small and low cut and tight, but Derek chose to use the smallest towel in the world (okay, maybe exaggeration was the name of the game today) to wipe the water out of his eyes, dry his face. Derek scrubbed over his chest briefly but dumped the towel to go stand under one of the outdoor showers by the pool, meant for people to use just as they were ready to jump in.

It was like Derek was doing it deliberately, head tilted into the stream, hands sluicing the water over his skin. If he peeled off the swimsuit, Stiles knew that he was probably still in bed and this was all a super real hallucination. But Derek didn’t. Instead he twisted under the water, giving Stiles the most perfect eyeful he’d basically ever had. School locker room peeks (and Stiles was man enough to admit to those) were nothing compared to the show Derek was putting on for him. Stiles was about to overdose on skin and muscles and that fucking huge swirl of a tattoo on Derek’s back that he now wanted to get his mouth all over…

And then Derek looked over his shoulder, through water drenched eyelashes and smiled, small and tight, at Stiles.

Stiles was out of the concession stand in a flash, before he’d even realized consciously that he was moving. He crossed the hot concrete, the sun beating down on his head, every sense suddenly desperately aware, as Derek turned to face him, still under the constant stream of the shower, and hooked his thumb in the waistband of his Speedo.

The sound of voices abruptly crashed through Stiles’ daze. The girls – the ones who constantly popped gum and refused to let him have free soda – were already walking through the chainlink gate and their abrasive laughter made Stiles freeze. Derek snapped the water off and grabbed his towel, vanishing into the changing rooms while Stiles finished setting up for the day, replaying the last moments over and over while the girls sneered and gossiped.

He fled to the closet where they kept the cleaning supplies as soon as he could to bang his head against the door and try to convince himself that he was just getting his hopes up and it didn’t mean anything and could his stupid dick kindly get the message please.

 

The rest of his shift was this exquisite torment. Stiles had spent every shift carefully factoring in Derek watching time, but now he couldn’t look because he knew he would find Derek watching him back and then he’d do something like fall in the pool again. Or face plant on the concrete which would be a lot more uncomfortable. And probably cause some major, perhaps permanent, damage.

It was impossible to not see Derek though, perched on his chair at the top of his ladder, king of all he surveyed. To know for sure what lay under his baggy shorts and the t-shirt that stretched across Derek’s broad shoulders and hung around his narrow waist. Stiles had to duck around the corner of the changing block just to calm down after he thought about that for a bit too long. And his shift took forever to end.

 

He rolled out of the gate, waving at his replacement and ready himself for the walk back home. He wasn’t exactly worried about how long it would take but it was hot and sticky and he wondered about dropping back through town and picking up an ice cream or something.

A sleek black car pulled up next to him. Stiles took a couple of moments to realize that the car had stopped and that the window was down and Derek Hale was leaning out of it. “No jeep today?”

“It needs a break every now and again. From my driving.” Stiles rocked on his heels and tried to read Derek’s expression behind his sunglasses. He was having no luck.

“Want a ride?” Derek’s eyebrow raised behind the frames as Stiles nodded, a little too eager possibly. He wanted a ride in all senses of the word, but he’d take the cool air-conditioned interior of the car over the sweaty sidewalk. Then Stiles realized he was still waiting and hurried around the car.

Derek’s car purred quite contentedly in the heat and the cool air made the leather seats comfortable rather than burning the back of Stiles’ bare legs. “So. Where are we going?”

“Where do you want to go?” Stiles bit his lip and slid his eyes sideways, hardly believing he’d dared say it. Derek kept his eyes on the road, although his hands tightened around the wheel. Then he relaxed back against the seat.

“Lunch?” He risked a quick look at Stiles.

Stiles tried to shrug nonchalantly. He was pretty sure the only bit he could manage was the shrug. “I could eat.”

Derek huffed out a soft laugh and turned on the stereo.

 

Stiles wasn’t sure how lunch at a roadside café halfway to the next town had led to an invitation back to his empty house but there it was. Maybe it was because his dad had left a message on his phone saying he wouldn’t be home until late. It was definitely the bravest Stiles had ever been. Derek had stared at him after he’d tossed out the invite so Stiles had taken a drink through his straw and Derek’s eyes had darkened and he’d swallowed and nodded.

The clock in the living room ticked loudly as Stiles stood in the hallway and froze. He knew what he wanted, where he wanted Derek and him to be. But he didn’t know how to get from standing in the hallway, his backpack dangling from one hand, to them naked and fucking. Because he was pretty sure that was what he wanted to happen. Here he was, nearly legal and ready to head to college and he was in control of his life. He was in control of his choices. And his choice was Derek Hale.

“Hey. We can just hang out,” Derek ran a hand down Stiles’ spine, leaving a trail of heat in its path. “Watch a movie.”

“I…” Stiles spun around. “I want more than that.”

Derek’s eyes dropped to his mouth and then Stiles was being caged back against the wall, being kissed. And it was good. Really good. Derek had this whole soft pressure thing going on, mouth wet but not sloppy. He also didn’t try and lick Stiles’ molars. Instead he was teasing and nipping and licking, his stubble surprisingly soft against Stiles’ cheeks. Derek’s hands skimmed along Stiles’ side, dipping under his shirt, holding him in place. Stiles wasn’t going anywhere though. He grabbed at Derek’s shoulders, groaning at the way his muscles bunched and flexed under Stiles’ palms.

“You want this, right?” Derek sounded a little less confident as he pulled back, his hand brushing at the stubble burn Stiles could feel starting to prickle on his cheek. He wondered what it would feel like on his throat, his chest, his belly… Instead of answering, Stiles pulled Derek into another kiss, even more intent and tried to push all his want and need into it.

Both of them were breathing heavily when they pulled apart. Stiles grinned, wildly, unable to actually believe he had Derek here, and willing. “Fuck. Upstairs?”

“What? We’re not going to do it in the hallway?” Derek didn’t smile. Instead he raised his eyebrows and just stared at Stiles. He was so fucked up because it made a punch of lust swirl deep in his belly.

“Lube and condoms are up there.” Stiles rocked forward, eager again. He could feel Derek’s dick against his thigh, promising under the denim of his jeans. “Otherwise…”

Derek groaned as he pulled back, gesturing at Stiles to lead the way. He only tripped once as he ran up the stairs – a bit of a record – and he pulled Derek with him, hurrying. It wasn’t that he was worried that Derek was going to change his mind (mostly). It was more that he was eager to get to see the whole package – no speedos, no shorts. He wanted to also get his hands all over Derek. Derek was at his back, pulling at Stiles’ shirt, before he got a chance, hauling it over his head and dropping it beside Stiles’ desk.

“Let me – Stiles, you gotta let me see you.” Derek’s hands were already roaming, fingers surprisingly soft as they roamed over Stiles’ chest, his belly. Then he froze. “You’re not – this isn’t the first time you’ve…”

“Relax, dude. I’ve done this before.” Twice, in fact. “Been a while.”

Derek dropped his head onto Stiles’ shoulder, his still clothed shirt pressing into Stiles’ naked back, his hands sliding along Stiles’ waistband. “Hard to believe. You’ve got to know what you look like.”

Stiles choked a little. “Yeah, right? In my glorious pool boy uniform. I mean, have you seen you?”

Derek’s hands found Stiles’ zipper and started working at it. “I’d rather look at you. Miles of legs and those shoulders.” Derek nosed along Stiles’ neck as he finally popped open Stiles’ board shorts. “Moles. Your fucking eyes.” Derek’s nose was under his ear now and he placed a soft kiss there as he shoved Stiles’ pants and underwear down.

Embarrassed and a little shy, Stiles turned around, kicking off his clothing and starting to pull at Derek’s. “Take it off,” Stiles whined.

Derek’s eyes were bright as he raised his arms up and let Stiles pull off his shirt. Too bright. Stiles dropped his gaze (no hardship really) to Derek’s waistband as he worked Derek’s jeans open and pushed at them. They clung to Derek’s thighs and Stiles tumbled rather ungracefully to his knees to take them off. Derek’s breath seemed to catch as Stiles did and Stiles risked a quick glance up Derek’s body, flashing him a grin.

Derek and his hands tangled as they reached for Derek’s snug black underwear. Together they worked it off, although Stiles stopped when Derek’s cock slapped up. He had to taste, opening his mouth, grabbing at Derek’s narrow hip with one hand.

“Your mouth,” Derek groaned, one hand falling to Stiles’ hair as Stiles hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Derek was warm and salty and still tasted a little of chlorine from the pool. Stiles let his other hand circle Derek’s cock, work up and down to meet his mouth, enjoying the warm, silky feel of the skin. “Come up here.”

Stiles was unceremoniously hauled up and drawn once more into a kiss, Derek licking his taste from Stiles’ mouth. All that naked skin pressed against him was glorious, warm and sweat slick and firm and smooth. It was near overwhelming but Stiles kept enough presence of mind to know that he was only going to enjoy this more. “Lie down,” he ordered, feeling a shudder run through Derek at the command. He kissed him one more time, mouth wide. “Lie down on the bed.”

It took a bit of strength to push away from Derek but Stiles had to. His lube was in his desk drawer, and the condoms in beside his socks. He stumbled over their tangled clothing because he couldn’t take his eyes off Derek who was shoving his sheets down and making himself comfortable, hand stroking over his cock, keeping it more than hard as Stiles fumbled around.

Stiles pinched himself in the hip as he pulled out the half empty tube. It did hurt. This was really happening. He snuck another look at Derek on the bed.

Derek laughed, a soft chuckle. “You’re always watching me.”

Stiles waved his hand, encompassing Derek’s very, very attractive frame laid out just for him. Derek flushed a little, red spots high on his perfect, chiseled cheekbones.

“I was watching you back, you know.” Derek isn’t as casual as he tries to make out. His shrug is studied and he looks away, eyelashes fanning on his cheeks as he looked down. Stiles grabbed the condom (or two. Maybe hopeful but you never know) and crawled into Derek’s lap, knees on either side of Derek’s legs. Then, suddenly courageous, Stiles tipped up Derek’s chin and kissed him. It was almost easier to kiss than to speak, really.

Derek kissed him back, his soft palm stroking down Derek’s spine and resting just above the curve of Stiles’ ass. Stiles deepened the kiss, pressing down against Derek, hinting that perhaps he should move his hand down further. Finally he took direct action, grabbing Derek’s wrist and urging it to move. Derek grinned against his mouth. “Ready?”

“I’ve been wanting this since I fell into the pool.” 

Derek held him a little more firmly then, deliberately meeting Stiles’ eyes. “Maybe we should wait.”

“Nope,” Stiles told him. “I will agree to as many dates as you desire, because, dude, not a hardship. But only if you fuck me now.” Stiles leaned over Derek again, mouth working its way down Derek’s neck. He should be littered with hickeys by now but Derek’s skin seemed impossibly resistant to marks. Stiles knew from his limited experience that he’d be marked up good in the morning, tiny marks even from where Derek gripped slightly too hard at his thighs. “Actually,” Stiles said, disengaging his mouth and grabbing the lube. “You don’t even need to do that. You could just lie there while I do all the work.”

Stiles knelt up as he worked the lube between his fingers, warming it up. Derek was the one whose mouth was hanging open now, his eyes dark and heavy as he watched Stiles reached around and work a finger in. He’d done this to himself often enough that he was able to put on a bit of a show, sliding two in quickly enough and basically riding his hand. His wrist started to twinge a little at that but it was worth it for the way Derek was swallowed and unable to let his eyes fix on any bit of Stiles, flicking from his dick to his face, his own cock brushing up against Stiles’.

“Get a condom on, Derek,” Stiles ordered, his voice a little breathless to be truly imperative. Derek let out a low groan as he obeyed though, the noise pulled out of him reluctantly. He didn’t wait for Stiles’ next instruction, slicking himself up and just holding his cock ready. Stiles leaned forward to kiss him again. “Well done.”

“Just-“ Stiles felt like he’d been hard for days by now (it was definitely hours, on and off) and he thought Derek might be feeling similarly. All these chips he was making in Derek’s façade were definitely worth it. “C’mon, Stiles.” Derek was basically begging as Stiles rose up and held himself above Derek’s cock and waited.

“Say please,” he teased, for all he basically wanted to just slide on down.

Derek looked a little desperate, eyes wild, flashing bright again as he ground out, “Please.”

Stiles didn’t tease anymore. He arched his hips down, thighs tight as he eased Derek inside him. Derek brought his hand to Stiles’ hip, guiding him as Stiles worked himself lower, the pace as quick as he could take it. He’d love to slam himself down, take all of Derek in one fell swoop, but it really had been a while and none of his toys (Danny was the best) could compete with Derek and the way he felt, burning hot and Stiles was so, so full.

He had to catch his breath when he was all the way down, rolling his hips in tiny circles while he got used to the feeling of Derek. He’d never tried it like this. Erik the ass had insisted on Stiles on his hands and knees, which, when he’d been nervous enough as it was, was fine. And they’d broken up before it got much further. But Stiles had a vivid imagination and he seemed to be doing all right by the way Derek’s chest was basically heaving and his head was tipped back on the pillow, eyes shut firm. 

It was the unmarked expanse of Derek’s neck that had him planting his hands on Derek’s chest and using them to lever himself up and down, slow at first. He could feel Derek tensing under him, thrusting up in tiny amounts. The angle improved when Stiles pushed himself upright, hands fumbling behind him until he had a firm grip on Derek’s solid thighs, muscled and firm, a perfect foundation for him to balance with as he began to slam himself down, as quickly as he could manage. 

Derek’s hands started to roam, starting at his hips, thumbs stroking over his hipbones, working their way up his chest and thumbing at his nipples, Derek’s nails catching a little sharply. Finally he got his hand around Stiles’ cock. Derek’s hand was a little slick and it was warm and soft and tight and Stiles was thrusting up into it when he wasn’t driving himself down onto Derek’s cock. He bit at his lip, hoping it would stop him coming, but the little spark of pain just made him harder, another blurt of precome making the slide of Derek’s hand even easier.

“Gonna come,” he warned, feeling the familiar build up in his balls. “Derek, gonna come.”

“You – fuck – Stiles, you don’t know what you look like.” Derek had pretty much abandoned his own restraint by this point, his feet planting themselves on the bed so he could thrust into Stiles, meet the down stroke with an up on his own. His hand worked over Stiles even faster as Stiles fell forward to kiss Derek, more panting into his mouth, unable to do anything else.

His orgasm still came as a surprise, rocking through him and making him bite down on Derek’s lip. Derek’s thrusts grew more frenzied as he held onto Stiles’ hip, until he stiffened, groaned and came, shuddering. Stiles kissed him through it, soothing his bite from earlier, letting Derek cling on to him until everything was too much, too sensitive.

Derek butted his nose against Stiles’ before he let Stiles pull off and collapse to the side. He felt pretty gross, sticky and sweaty and fucking fantastic. Derek rolled his head sideways, eyes soft now as he traced the path between the moles on Stiles’ face before he reached out with a finger and traced them for real. “Bathroom?”

Stiles waved his hand in the direction of the hallway before flopping his hand back onto his chest and just watching as Derek and his ass and his tattoo wandered out the door. Nice sight.

This was, of course, the moment that Stiles started to get weird again. What was he supposed to do now? Make Derek some coffee? Offer him beer (cause he was old enough which, again, awkward). Maybe he liked to smoke after sex which was first, yuck, and second not happening in this house so Derek would have to go outside and into the back yard and far away so his dad didn’t smell anything. And Stiles should probably wash up too.

He was hovering halfway to the door when Derek came back in, a washcloth in his hand. “Oh, hey.” Derek held out the cloth and Stiles took it, automatically. Then Stiles felt himself relax. Derek looked just as awkward as he did.

“I’m gonna wash up. You should get comfortable and I’ll be back.” Stiles was very aware of the mess he was as Derek leaned forward and kissed him lightly. Then again, Stiles was never going to get enough of the kissing.

 

Derek was had pulled the sheets up but was sprawled on top in his tight boxers. It was a good look. Stiles snagged his own shorts from the floor and slipped into them. “You want anything? Drink?”

Derek rolled his eyes and held out his arm. Stiles hesitated. “Let me get my laptop.”

“What?” Derek let his arm drop and Stiles hurried over to fill the space Derek had left. 

“Movie time.” He’d thought about it in the bathroom. He didn’t want Derek to go anywhere, not just yet, and he didn’t want his own insecurities and his whole headspace issues to eat up any possibility of civilized conversation. So, they’d do something datey and maybe there would be more making out and then more food and then his dad would be home and they’d be dressed and Stiles could pretend that was all they’d been doing and his dad might be very obvious about putting his gun in the safe but it would be cool and-

“What are we watching?” Derek wriggled around until Stiles was comfortable against his chest. 

“You pick? I’m happy with whatever.” Stiles handed over the machine and let Derek scroll through the choices.

“This is so you can test my taste in movies, right?” Derek rubbed his nose along Stiles’ jawline until he could press a soft kiss under his ear again. Stiles shivered. He was going to develop such a Pavlovian reflex if Derek kept doing that. “Superheroes are good, right?”

“Yeah. Perfect, actually.” Stiles slipped into a comfortable half-doze as Derek and he watched the start of Captain America. Stiles had seen it a bunch of times. “Maybe we should have started with Iron Man.”

“Do a whole Marvel thing?” Derek’s voice rumbled from over his shoulder. Stiles checked and, yup, Derek was nearly asleep as well. “We should do that.”

“Have to take breaks for sex, though.” Stiles thought it was a valid point as Derek let out another low chuckle and tugged him closer. 

“And work,” Derek reminded him. “You should come join me in the pool, in the morning.”

“Don’t think I’d get much swimming done,” Stiles teased. “Not with you in that speedo.”

“You’d probably get me out of it soon enough.” Derek didn’t look like he was joking when Stiles turned around to glare at him. Derek kissed him, softly. “You can touch as well as look now.”

“Yeah? Cool.” Stiles was anything but cool, his heart pounding. He liked the sound of that, a whole lot. So he kissed Derek back and they ended up ignoring most of the movie while Stiles found out what Derek's stubble felt like when it rubbed, well, everywhere.


End file.
